


As Night Beckons Dawn

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Battle of Hogwarts, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione and Luna trade pieces of vulnerability under the stars.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a gift.
> 
> for the maximum experience, listen to "wash" by bon iver whilst reading.
> 
> (yes, i wrote the poem as well)

As night beckons dawn  
I am guided into your arms  
Not for any material gain  
But for respite, subtraction of pain  
For what can be given when  
everything has been lost?  
If only for a moment,   
I will indulge myself—  
and ignore the cost

* * *

 

It was strange and dissociative to feel lost in the grand castle which had become home to Hermione. Many of the landmarks used to identify unofficial routes and shortcuts were burnt, broken, or crumbled. Entire walls had imploded, leaving jagged corridors that slashed through classrooms and hallways. Students meandered in nervous groups, their uniforms stained with blood and dust. Still yet, the heart of the school felt almost magnetic—as Hermione aimlessly walked in the opposite direction, waves of people headed toward the Great Hall by invisible compass, seeking solace, missing friends and family, or first aid. It was eerily quiet. Not once did Hermione have to point someone in the right direction, for which she was grateful. To think of the rows of bodies laid out in between the house tables made bile spike up her throat.

She happened upon a gaping hole sliced across the castle’s side, opening to the empty grounds and clear night sky. Debris crunched under her shoes as she walked with her arms wrapped around herself. Once she was past the inky sprawl of the lake Hermione turned atop a hill, and observed the school’s broken silhouette. The events of the night pummeled her in the chest. She gasped, clutching her heart, and dropped onto the ground. Great echoing sobs were lost in the vacuum of stillness. Her hands shook as she remembered the force of killing the Horcrux, Ron’s expectant gaze, her own muddled feelings.

A pale figure strode in her direction, their crown of pale hair glowing akin to a halo. Hermione scrubbed her eyes and wiped her nose with the edge of her sleeve.

“Luna,” she said.

Her friend sat down gracefully, the skirt of their dress singed and tattered. Hermione’s gaze lingered on their face, taking note of the lacerations and bruises.

“I’m okay,” Luna said. “How are you?”

Hermione’s jaw set. She ducked her head and nearly repeated Luna’s own assurance, but felt it would be disrespectful as Luna had told the truth, and Hermione would be lying. She didn’t know how she knew Luna was honest—perhaps it was simply a matter of elimination: Luna wouldn’t be dishonest. Not now.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” Luna continued. Hermione lifted her head. Luna had laid back on the grass and presently watched the sky. Hermione followed their gaze. It seemed as if the stars were twinkling in a rhythm, taking cues from one another.

“It is,” Hermione said, voice hoarse.

“You’ve been crying,” Luna stated, glancing at her.

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry,” they said. “I did too.”

Hermione turned. Sure enough, there were tear tracks laced through the smears of dirt on Luna’s face.

“What made you stop?” she asked.

They shrugged. “I ran out of tears.”

“And if they keep coming?”

Luna opened her arms. “Then come here. You wouldn’t want to waste any.”

Hermione stiffened. “I don’t know—”

“Please?”

She sighed, then awkwardly laid down on her side. Luna’s warm front pressed against her back, and their thin doll-like arms wrapped around her middle. She breathed evenly across strands of grass, tears gathered at her eyelashes.

Luna kissed her shoulder. Hermione did not respond outwardly. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Is it okay?”

“I don’t know.”

Luna lowered their head. “Alright.”

“Wait.” Hermione’s throat seized. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m you’re friend,” Luna said softly.

Hermione thought of Ron and his hands over hers as she gripped the basilisk fang. “Okay,” she assented. Luna was honest, singularly-purposed. If Hermione requested, they’d never speak of this again.

She surrendered to the grass and Luna’s warm hold. When she closed her eyes all she could sense was the smell of the earth, and Luna’s body against hers.

Luna kissed her shoulder again. Then her neck. Hermione’s breath hitched, and she turned in their arms. Luna’s blue eyes stared at her inquisitively, waiting for a protest or order to stop. Hermione said nothing, and Luna kissed her temples, her cheeks, her chin. Their lips were small and thin and chapped, cool against Hermione’s heated face and jaw.

Soon, Hermione would go back inside to the Great Hall. Ron would search for her in the crowd, and she’d guide him to an empty corner of the castle, where he could lay his head in her lap and cry. Then they’d search for Harry, and piece him back together enough to face the dawn.

But for now the sky was awash in ebony with no sign of light, and Hermione gave herself to Luna’s arms; even if only for a moment. 


End file.
